Chapter Twenty-Four: This Damned Culinary Skill!

A rather handsome young man, whose greatest talent seems to be boasting all day long! Li Can could only respond to Su Rui’s scorn with a faint, good-natured smile.

“By the way, why are you pounding the beef with the back of the knife?”

With nothing better to do, Su Rui’s attention finally shifted to the culinary process, especially since the young man before her turned out to be a hidden master in the kitchen. If she could pick up a trick or two from him, it would certainly be worthwhile.

“There are many techniques for preparing beef—what I’m using now is just one of them,” Li Can explained, unreserved and meticulous. “I use the back of the knife to tenderize the beef. Later, I’ll slice it thinly against the grain, which will give the finished dish a soft and silky texture. If you want the beef to be chewier, you should cut along the grain instead.”

“There are even rules for how you cut the beef?” Su Rui found this unbelievable. She had never known that the way you sliced beef could affect its texture. “So are you planning to cut against the grain or along it?”

“That depends on the chef’s judgment of the guests. For younger customers, I cut along the grain; for older guests, I cut against it.” As he spoke, Li Can began slicing the beef against the grain. His movements were swift and precise, clean and unhesitating.

“But the diners probably can’t tell the difference, can they?”

“Don’t underestimate your guests—they might be even more discerning than the chef himself,” Li Can replied.

“Oh,” Su Rui murmured meekly.

He placed the sliced beef into a small basin of clean water and gently kneaded it for a minute to remove the hidden blood.

“Many people think that washing ingredients before cutting is enough, but that only cleans the surface,” Li Can said, pointing to the water, which was now cloudy. “See?”

“It’s that dirty?” Su Rui was startled. She remembered washing the beef several times after bringing it home.

“It’s not dirt—it’s the blood hidden in the beef,” Li Can shook his head. “The more thoroughly you remove the blood, the less gamey the meat will taste, making the flavor much better.”

Su Rui nodded thoughtfully, then watched as Li Can squeezed the rinsed beef in his hands, pressing out every last drop of moisture.

“That’s incredibly thorough...”

“Naturally. The fresher the beef, the more blood it has. Taking a few extra steps is always worthwhile,” Li Can chuckled. “Of course, that’s not the only reason. The drier the beef, the better it’ll absorb the marinade.”

“Like a sponge?”

“Exactly.”

Li Can said no more, placing the wrung-out beef into a clean bowl to season.

He added salt for savoriness,
Pepper for heat and aroma,
And dark soy sauce for color.

The squeezed-dry beef looked pale, but the deep brown of the soy sauce not only restored its appetizing appearance but also enhanced its flavor, making it more complex.

The next step was crucial.

“Mix the beef with your hand in a single direction until it becomes sticky. That way, the beef will lock in the moisture along with the seasoning. If you skip this step, the beef will release water during stir-frying, making it look unappealing and prone to sticking to the pan.”

Then he added egg white to increase tenderness,
And a bit of cornstarch to lock in the flavor.

At this stage, the beef was extremely sticky, clumping together in a mass. If you tossed it straight into the pan, it would be hard to separate and, if you weren’t careful, could turn tough.

Li Can poured in a little vegetable oil.

“The oil acts like a lubricant, helping to keep each piece of beef separate. When it hits the pan, it’ll fall apart instead of clumping together.”

“And that’s all for the beef preparation.” Li Can washed his hands at the sink, then pointed to the ingredients arrayed on the counter. “The aromatics for this dish are simple: garlic, ginger, red pepper, and most importantly, scallions. The first three are just for flavor, but scallions are a key component—you’ll need three or four for a proper plate of stir-fried beef with scallions.”

Su Rui watched intently, afraid to miss a single detail.

Garlic and ginger were sliced thinly,
Half a red pepper was chopped into small pieces,
The scallions were cut diagonally into little rings.

Even without Li Can’s explanation, it was obvious that the red pepper’s main purpose was to add a splash of color and prevent the dish from looking monotonous, while its sweetness could also temper the richness of the beef.

Su Rui might not have Li Can’s skills, but she could follow the simpler techniques.

“With the ingredients ready, you need to prepare a separate sauce,” Li Can said, taking out a small white porcelain bowl and pouring in steamed fish soy sauce, cooking wine, pepper, and cornstarch, mixing them well.

Steamed fish soy sauce is usually for seafood, but here it boosted the savory depth of the stir-fried beef with scallions.

Spices in the kitchen are like colors on an artist’s palette—their use isn’t fixed, but depends on the right combinations. Use them well, and the result is spectacular; use them poorly, and the dish is a disaster.

“Dark soy sauce is heavy and deeply colored, so don’t use too much. What it can’t provide must be supplemented by other seasonings—steamed fish soy sauce is just one option. There’s also light soy, regular soy, chicken essence, and so on.”

Li Can had no intention of keeping any secrets. Whenever something important came up, he explained it in detail.

Su Rui nodded earnestly.

A roar thundered in the kitchen as the stove was lit.

The restaurant’s burners were nothing like home stoves—the flames blazed fiercely, roaring like an engine.

Li Can’s explanations ended here. The next steps depended on practice and skill, not words.

He heated the wok and added two ladles of vegetable oil.

When the oil reached about forty percent heat, he lifted the pan off the fire and tipped in the marinated beef.

It was worth noting—by “ladle” he didn’t mean a small household spoon, but the large ladle chefs use in restaurants!

In other words, two ladles of oil was a generous amount, enough to cover all the beef.

Li Can turned the heat to medium and set the pan back on the stove, using the back of the ladle to gently spread the beef apart.

Here, the benefit of marinating with oil showed itself: at the lightest touch of the ladle, the beef slices separated effortlessly, with no force needed.

About ten seconds later, the beef was cooked through.

Using a towel to grip the handle in his left hand and the ladle in his right, Li Can poured the beef and oil into a strainer to drain.

He added a little more oil to the pan, heated it, and tossed in the ginger, garlic, and red pepper, stirring over medium heat until aromatic. Then he added oyster sauce and cooked it all until fragrant.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of hot oil and spices—not suffocating, but invigorating and appetizing. The aroma made Su Rui’s stomach rumble, even though she’d eaten her fill at dinner.

Perhaps this was the magic of good food.

Once the aromatics were ready, Li Can returned the drained beef to the pan and stir-fried it quickly, then added the scallions and tossed everything together just until the scallions wilted. He poured in the prepared sauce and stirred to coat everything evenly.

Because the sauce had been premixed with cornstarch, it not only seasoned the dish but thickened the sauce, making it glossy and rich.

Finally, he plated the dish.

A steaming plate of scallion-infused stir-fried beef was ready!

Su Rui had watched every step of Li Can’s method.

There were no flashy stunts or dramatic tossing of the wok,
No secret tricks as she had imagined,
Only the plain, honest rhythm of stir-frying and turning,
With the occasional flare of flames licking the side of the pan, lending the dish a subtle smokiness.

Not too much, not too little—just right.

“Damn, those skills are incredible!” Su Rui’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

Li Can smiled and shook his head.

“Let’s serve the dish.”

(To be continued...)